At some point earlier today I was at a beach, and it was nice. It had been a while since I was last at one getting smashed by waves, and this one did little to change that, but that was fine. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t feeling much like getting knocked about, but I still wanted some strong waves. Didn’t quite get those, and instead had something that was a bit lower in energy. Not exactly calm – there were plenty of waves and they were pleasing enough – but not exactly violent, or rather outwardly so.

I was standing there and I tried to bodysurf some of the waves and it didn’t quite work out, but the sound of those waves hitting the beach was pleasant, and a lot of people were out and it was all nice. Could see the water being displaced as energy moved through them, but maybe it wasn’t enough. I had a good time, but I found myself thinking about going to the beach after redundancy in 2015.

For a few weeks, maybe a month or a little more than, Ewe and I were going to the beach quite a lot. I’d also resumed studying but was only doing a summer course, and taking it relatively easy. We’d get up and leave our places some time between five and five-thirty, walk to the bus stop, head to Bondi Beach whilst it was still quiet and, so long as the surf was strong and it mostly was, get smashed by waves, bodysurf, all those things for a good forty-five minutes to an hour.

It was usually cold in the morning, but also relatively quiet and so we’d have a lot of the flag space to ourselves. Waves would crash against us if we didn’t go under or try to catch them, and when a good wave came and one of us got it, we’d go a good distance back to the shoreline.

The sound of waves breaking filled the open space, but occasionally there’d be a sense of a quiet that came from a stillness. The loudness of the waves crashing had a certain peace to it, and so did this. It was all relieving in a sense, and it was a great time to be going and experiencing it, because we’d be tired and going there, and floating around was a great way to shake off the tiredness for a few hours.

So we’d head to the change rooms when we were done, and once we got changed we’d head off to a café near the beach. There was one time we were on our way and we heard someone say something along the lines of “Not in the car” and we looked over. There was a car near us and the rear passenger window closest to us was open, and this guy was sticking his head out and he looked like a koala, and he started vomiting but it was dribbling down the side of the car rather than launching out and away.

We’d get to the café and I’d order bruschetta for breakfast, and I’d pronounce it the way it’s meant to be pronounced and they’d always say it back the incorrect way, and Ewe would laugh about it, and sometimes say it incorrectly to antagonise me, but the food was always good.

Usually we’d hop on a bus home after and if Ewe had work that day he’d hop off in the city, and sometimes I’d come along and walk home from there. Sometimes we’d go by UNSW instead as I’d have class that day.

There was this one time when we hopped on to go by UNSW, and I don’t think we noticed it at first, but there was this person having a conversation with someone on the phone, and they repeatedly “Robbie”. The way they’d say the name was spaced out, and seemingly exasperated or worried – it was hard to tell – and they said it a lot. As in, after we noticed, almost for the entirety of the time they were on the bus, and it was too much. It just kept going, and since then It’s been a bit of a joke for Ewe and I, and it’s been easier to deal with as the distance has increased.

The beach today was warm and it was pleasant, but Bondi Beach early morning had cold sand, but it made it all the more better for jumping into the waves. Today was fine, but it made me think about those days at the end of 2015 and the start of 2016, where things were a different kind of intense, and perhaps much more enjoyable because of it.